


Interlude: Fear of the Known

by Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Series: Vexation of Spirit [8]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), The Lone Gunmen (TV)
Genre: Airports, Arguments about money, Awkward Conversations, Expensive Restaurant Bathroom Sex, M/M, Meet the Family, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Plans For The Future, Tactical Capitalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-21 20:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16583633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: Reid decides to visit his mother, over the weekend. He hasn't, for too long, especially now that she's so much closer. But, she's supposedly doing well, this week, so now's the time. And then he decides to invite Langly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's another interlude that goes before this one ( ~~and one that goes after~~ ), but I'm probably writing it last of the three, because it leads back into the Helmsman plot, and I just want to get these out of the way before I forget them.

"Nobody call me this weekend," Reid announced, slipping clipped stacks of paper into his bag and rearranging things until they all fit. "I'm not going to be here."

"Finally getting that holiday?" Alvez asked, with a wide smile.

"I'm going to visit my mother. Now that she's living in Boston, there's no reason not to. It's closer, less expensive..." Reid shrugged and patted his pockets, making sure he had everything he meant to. "It's just taken me a bit to get used to the idea that she's right there, and this is something I can just... do on a weekend."

Alvez nodded. "Living closer to your family is good, sometimes. If you want to see them, they're right there, but they're still not in the same city, so if you don't want to see them..." He shrugged expressively.

"I feel so bad I couldn't keep her closer, but after everything that happened... it's just safer, this way." Reid tucked his hair behind his ear and dug through his desk drawer for something he'd misplaced.

"Reid, your mother's ill," Lewis reminded him. "She needs more help than you can give her, alone. You did the right thing, and you're doing the right thing, now, going to visit her. Whatever she remembers is a gift, and she's never forgotten you. I don't think she will."

"There's no doubt in my mind that I've made the right decisions. I can still regret that it's come to a point where these _are_ the right decisions." Reid pulled his car keys out of the drawer, uncertain when he'd managed to put them there, and shoved them into his pocket. "Not visiting her. I have no regrets about that. And on that cheerful note, I'm gone for the day. I'll be back on Monday. If you need something, borrow Villette from down the hall."

Alvez watched Reid leave, before he shot a look at Lewis. "God made two of him, and I'm still not sure why."

"Obviously, so one could take holidays." Lewis looked over at Alvez. "And Agent Villette is perfectly competent in his own right, and I'm sure he's tired of the comparison."

"I'll believe that when he stops calling Reid his 'evil twin'."

* * *

Halfway home, Reid once again found himself faced with the fact that he'd been dragged into the twenty-first century against his better judgement and still had nowhere to stick his phone while he was driving, which shouldn't have been a problem, except he'd gotten into the habit of not calling Langly from home, when possible. Langly's paranoia rubbing off on him, he had no doubt, but he also had very little doubt it wasn't quite paranoia -- the man did technically have people who wanted to kill him, at least some of them demonstrated to still be alive. He dialled at a stoplight, put the phone on speaker, and tossed it on the passenger seat. Close enough.

Barely one ring, before Langly picked up, as if he'd been waiting. "Hey, gorgeous, tell me you've got something more interesting than this month's accounting."

"Do you want to go to Boston, tomorrow?"

"Did... What... Boston? Why Boston?"

Reid could almost hear Langly sorting through recent memories, looking for a reason. "Because if you're up for it, I'd like you to meet my mother."

"Is that a good idea?" Langly's horror came through clearly.

"If you don't want to, that's fine. I know it's short notice, and you're not really into family..."

"No, no, not that, I mean... I'm sure I'm not the pretty girl she expects to see you with, and I'm not shaving my legs again, so no." Langly laughed nervously. "You're ... taking your _boyfriend_ to meet your mother. That's... Are you sure that's really a good idea?"

"I've never brought anyone to meet her. I've never had anyone I was comfortable introducing her to -- she's... I don't have to tell you. You've seen the records." Reid swallowed, trying to remember why he'd thought it was a good idea to have this conversation while he was driving. "I just want her to see I'm happy."

"You're sure she's not going to freak out? Because maybe this is me being old, but I'm pretty sure this is one of those things that ends in screaming and disowning."

"She can't disown me. I have power of attorney." Reid sighed. "I know that's not what you're asking. I think she'll be a little surprised, but I don't think she's going to take it poorly."

"And you're seriously going to try to grab a ticket for _tomorrow_." Langly sounded utterly disbelieving.

"Just yours. I already have mine."

"Uh- _huh_. Why don't you let me solve that problem?"

"How illegal is that likely to be?"

"Do you _want_ an answer to that?"

"Probably not."

"Didn't think so. Just let me take care of it." Langly stifled a yawn. "How many days?"

"Out on the morning commuter, back on the eleven-thirty. It's cheaper to fly in the middle of the night."

"No luggage," Langly observed.

"One carry-on. You can bring your laptop."

"Starting not to need it," Langly admitted. "But, I probably should, if only because _I_ should be in airplane mode for the flight."

"I shouldn't be having a conversation about the effect of transhuman evolution on our relationship, _while I'm driving_."

"Then trust me to handle the flight, and I'll be at yours in a few hours. I just have to wrap some things up so nothing catches fire while I'm gone, apologise to the girls for ditching them again -- at least it's not a competition weekend. I'd be less nervous if I was sure Byers was in his right mind."

"It's only a day."

"It's _Byers_. He's not well."

* * *

"Please don't take this personally, but I'm about to be a complete remorseless asshole to you." Langly was on the phone again, calling the one person he hoped he could count on to take care of Byers while he was gone. Not that Frohike wouldn't try, but Frohike wasn't what Byers needed.

"What'd you do this time, Frank, and how bad are the national security implications?" Garcia sighed loudly, and Langly could imagine the eyeroll.

"It's Fitz. He's... He really needs someone, right now, and I have to get on a flight at five tomorrow morning. I'm only gone a day, but I'm really worried he's going to do something stupid."

"What about Whiskey?"

"Wrong kind of help. He's been curled up in my lap, crying, for days. Whiskey can't handle this shit -- this has always been my problem, but I absolutely have to be in Boston, tomorrow. Just take him for lunch or something. This whole thing with Holly really fucked him up."

"I don't really want to step in that. Whatever they have going on... I don't want to get in the middle of it."

Langly crammed a hand under his glasses, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye, and the glasses dropped to the desk in front of him. "There is no middle of it. That's the problem. It's over. He's in the middle of the divorce he can't have to the marriage he wasn't invited to, and thank the gods of your choice their daughter's an adult, because I don't even want to think about what a custody agreement with a dead husband would look like. Holly left him for Paul. For real, this time."

"Oh my gosh. _When_?"

"Right after we got him back. And not to his face, at first. None of us saw it happen, so we all thought he'd lost his mind. _Me_. I really thought he'd lost it. I was sitting right next to him, when it hit him. He just needs someone to tell him he's sweet and cute, maybe make sure he eats something and doesn't drink himself to death, before I get home."

"Well, he's definitely sweet and cute! Wait, does that mean you--"

"Assured him that he was a desirable piece of man-meat that any woman would be lucky to be allowed to fondle lovingly? Yeah. Hey, what are friends for?"

"You're something else, Frank. Reminds me of why I like you."

"And you are much too young for me."

"And Reid is younger than I am."

"I keep trying not to think of that. I knew you when you were a teenager. I didn't meet him until he was almost forty. It's ... stupid, but it's different. Anyway, you don't want me, I'm an asshole. You want Fitz, who is moral and righteous and has pretty eyes."

"Pretty eyes, huh?"

"I'm not _blind_. Have you looked at him, lately?" Langly huffed. "I'm pretty sure you could achieve world peace by sending him into war zones to make sad faces at the leaders on both sides. And if he's not enough, there's always Villette."

"Speaking of Villette, what's this I hear about the two of you?" The question sounded curious, but with an edge.

"I don't know. Hafidha even _said_ it wasn't me she heard, that night, so you're looking in the wrong place for a rumour. I was probably asleep at the time." Langly paused for a moment, and then decided to be a dick. "I was definitely with Reid, because I spent that _whole night_ with him."

"Ew! Okay! That is... all I need to know!"

"So, it's fine when it's me and Villette, but not when it's me and Reid?" Langly could see what Reid meant about his team being weird about him.

"No, it is _not_ fine when it's you and Villette." Garcia snapped, and the sound of background typing stopped. "If I find out you're screwing around on Spencer, I will erase everything you love and have every one of your identities voided."

"There is absolutely no screwing _around_ going on, regardless of how much _screwing_ may be going on, and if you want to hear about that, you're going to have to ask Reid on Monday, because I'm _not_ having that conversation." On that point, Langly would not be moved. Not only did he get why Reid and Chaz were trying to keep it quiet, but his own sex life was not a subject for discussion with people who weren't involved in it. " _Anyway_ , Fitz."

"I don't know if I'm really the right choice for that."

"I've heard rumours that you're really good at this kind of thing. Even Reid says so. He also says he's sorry he hung up on you that one time. And the other time. And probably the other time, but that one wasn't his fault." Langly picked up his glasses and put them back on. "Besides, you're still figuring out if you're actually interested in him, right? Well, this is the actual worst. Everything's uphill from here. Just bring him some cake and tell him he's cute. He'll probably cry. He cries at everything, right now, but I mean, I would. He really needs someone on the outside, someone who's not one of us."

"That's so sad. And Reid should be sorry he hung up on me. I'm an absolute spirit of goodness and wonder." Garcia sighed, and Langly knew he had her. "So, is he coming out, or should I show up at your super-secret bunker?"

"If you show up at the house, let Whiskey know you're coming, because he's not going to be too busy sulking to open the garage for you." Langly glanced over his shoulder, to make sure Frohike wasn't standing behind him. "And give him a minute to get the inner door. There's at least two vault doors and a flight of stairs between him and you, if you come in from the garage, and he's not as young as I am."

"Because you're so very young and sprightly," Garcia teased.

"Hey, I'm the youngest person living here, and you're not that far behind me!"

"A lady never ages."

"Then I guess I'm putting my best friend's life in the hands of a teenage hacker, which, give or take a couple of years is about how this all started, so I really can't complain."

"He'll be fine, Frank. Just ask Spencer about the time I made him sit still long enough that I could paint his nails. I promise he stopped crying before I was done."

"You-- I must have something in my ear. You did _what_ to Reid?"

"Painted his nails. And I put happy little kitties on them. But, it was probably the half-gallon bucket of chocolate-cherry soy ice cream that did the heavy lifting, there. Got problems? Apply theobromine. Every girl knows it, every man ignores it."

"Just so you know, I'm stealing that idea."

"Good. You take good care of that boy, Ringo."

Langly winced. "Don't let Byers die while I'm out, and we'll call it even."


	2. Chapter 2

Airports were bad. Langly had forgotten how bad airports were, and how much worse they'd gotten while he hadn't been looking. This was very, very different to a private flight. The sky wasn't even bright, yet, and hundreds of people spanned the room around him, and nearly half of them were in uniform. Feds -- the TSA, Homeland, god knew what else might be behind one of those closed doors. He broke out in a sweat, knowing if there was one person in the world he could be mistaken for, it was himself. But, he didn't exist any more, and Frank Arroway did. Frank Arroway had a ticket on a commuter flight to Boston. Frank Arroway also did not dare put the hood up on his sweatshirt, lest someone assume he had something to hide.

And then he watched Reid do something probably illegal and utterly brilliant.

Reid offered his badge, explaining quietly that he was travelling with a witness in a federal case -- one who'd been shot at quite recently -- and he'd prefer to keep the witness out of sight as much as possible, lest anything else go wrong. He put an arm around Langly's shoulders, reassuringly. What it won them was early boarding and the furthest back seats in the plane, and as soon as Langly was sitting down, Reid handed him one of those terrible blankets from the overhead bin that felt a little too much like hospital blankets for Reid to ever be comfortable with. Langly tipped his seat back the whole three inches it would go and pulled the blanket over his face, prepared to at least pretend to sleep all the way to Boston.

* * *

Wearing the hood up in Boston was less of a bad idea, even if the weather was a little warm for it, yet. He was thin enough that it didn't seem out of place. The nice thing, he supposed, about leaving the network view on, while he walked, was that it didn't take any effort to spot most of the cameras. Some were still wired, but most of them went wireless somewhere, and the city cameras conveniently identified themselves and their locations.

Still, they had a couple of hours before they could show up at the... he supposed 'hospital' was the word. He was sure he wasn't supposed to say 'funny farm', 'boobyhatch', or 'nuthouse' in front of Reid, and 'asylum' had such unfortunate connotations. But, that wasn't the point. The point was breakfast, because he was going to be paying attention to the city's data all day, looking for himself.

"You may not get to meet her," Reid said, when they were seated in the back of some greasy spoon obviously not intended for tourists. "I may not get to see her. She's been doing well, this week, but that can change in an instant. And if she says something weird to you, just nod along. She has some difficulty, sometimes, and it's usually best not to call attention to it, unless she's doing something dangerous."

"Right, so, basic conspiracy nutter etiquette. Smile and nod until they get to the point you're waiting for." Langly nodded, trying to hide the sudden sinking feeling at having said 'nutter' on this trip, specifically. It wasn't that he wouldn't call someone a nutter in front of Reid, but possibly not in the same sentence with his _mother_. "What do I call her? I don't think 'Reid's mom' is really the vibe I should be going for, at our age."

Reid blinked, realising the answer wasn't going to be as easy as it usually was. Langly wasn't one of _her_ attendants, but one of _his_ friends. He sighed, realising something else. "Well, you should probably call _me_ 'Spencer', in front of her. She'll take a better view of the relationship. But, you're going to be in a room with two 'Dr Reid's. I'm the agent and she's the professor, and you can definitely get away with calling her 'Professor'. Or even just 'ma'am'. She was a full professor, when she retired, so she's used to a certain level of respect."

Langly froze, a piece of toast piled with eggs halfway to his mouth. "You know, you should've brought Byers. He's better at this."

"I'm not dating Byers."

"Dating." Langly looked out across the room, contemplatively. "We're in a restaurant. In public. That counts as a date, right?"

"If you want it to. I've been counting the times you've showed up with dinner." Reid sipped his coffee and shrugged.

Langly held out his hand in the middle of the table and waited until Reid took it. "Okay, now it's a date. Holding your hand in a greasy diner in a city we don't live in? Totally a date."

"Going to see my mom?"

"Still completely terrifying."

* * *

Langly started having doubts about how he was dressed, when he noticed the eyes following the two of them. Not just him, but that he was there with Reid, and the style gap between them was massive. He used to get that look, sometimes, going into places with Byers, but if he ever gave a fuck what the clerk in a truckstop in the ass end of nowhere thought, he'd given that up in a hurry. Here, though, it was probably important to be taken seriously. He should've worn the suit. The suit still had pockets for panic bags and everything. Not... that he could've gotten on the plane with the panic bags in. Not that he really wanted to be stuck in a suit for an entire fucking day, either, especially not when four hours of it would be spent on a plane. But, he was suddenly aware of how entirely conspicuous he was. And -- Oh, shit.

He pulled out his phone and forced it onto a network, looking down as he shot an email to Frohike. _He_ was going to set off the alert they had set for unexpected people approaching Reid's mother.

"Problem?" Reid asked, catching the motion peripherally.

"So, you remember the safety alerts I put in for your mom? Yeah, I didn't put myself on the whitelist."

Reid looked terribly amused, and it wasn't nearly as subtle as he tried to keep it.

"Look, this was not a situation I really expected to find myself in. Like. Ever." Langly blinked in faint annoyance, mostly with himself.

"Dr Reid!" A young woman called out, waving from a door that led somewhere deeper into the building.

"Latoya, it's good to see you!" Reid smiled and put an arm around Langly's waist as he crossed the room. "How is she, today?"

"Just as well as she's been all week. We're all a little surprised it's lasted this long, but you never know." The woman turned a bright smile on Langly. "Oh, _that's_ why you're worried; you brought a friend! It's a good day for it. She might even remember it, later."

"This is Frank." Reid introduced them. "Frank, this is Latoya, one of my mother's nurses."

"Hey." Langly raised a hand and nodded.

"It's good to meet you." Latoya stepped aside, holding the door for them. "Well, come on. You don't want to keep the other Dr Reid waiting."

The place was nice, Langly had to admit. Huge windows and warm wood tones, nothing like he usually thought of when someone said 'hospital' or even 'nursing home'. And that was when it really sunk in why Reid lived like he did. Someone had to pay for all this. Langly let Reid get a little ahead of him and knocked off another text to Frohike. He'd take the bitching from Reid, later, but he'd start the paperwork for the trust now. Compared to what they were spending on the project downtown, he could practically find Reid's entire yearly salary between the couch cushions, and why not blow pocket change to help someone he actually _knew_ , for a change? He'd take it out of someone who could afford it even more than he could, when he got home.

Reid let go as they came into what looked like a library, and Langly knew they'd arrived. Tables stretched along the windows, dotted with people reading and playing board games, but Reid made straight for the far end of the room, where a silver-haired woman sat with a large book open in her lap, taking notes on a pad resting on the arm of her chair. Seeing her in motion, Langly could finally see the resemblance.

"Mom?"

"Spencer!" Diana looked up and smiled, putting down her pen and holding out her hand. "Come here and let me see you. You look well! Have you been sleeping?"

Reid swallowed and smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, actually, I have been. I know, _me_ sleeping, must be the end of days."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's healthy for a man your age to be sleeping an entire eight hours. Of course, if you're anything like I was at your age, you're getting by on six."

Langly tried not to smirk, really he did.

"That sounds about right," Reid agreed, staying away from the specifics. "How have things been, here?"

"Oh, you know how it is. They'll let me do almost anything I want. I'm working on another article." Diana gestured to the notes.

The way Reid nodded said everything, and Langly guessed she hadn't finished any articles in a long time.

"I hope you'll let me read it." Reid sounded wistful.

"Who's your friend, Spencer? Is he with you?" Diana pointed at Langly. "Is this someone new you work with? I haven't seen your team in a very long time. You never bring them to visit!"

"They have their own families, mom." Reid gestured with just his fingers, for Langly to step forward. "But, this is Frank, and yes, we do work together, but--"

"Frank." Diana looked up imperiously. "And what is it you do, agent?"

"Not an agent." Langly held up his hands. "Civilian technical consultant. I'm the guy they call when they don't have enough hands."

"Which explains your manner of dress. Like that nice girl with the bright hair." Diana nodded, as if she'd been wondering that, and Langly felt a grand total of fourteen years old. "You know, he never brings his friends home."

Reid looked like he'd begun to regret this entire idea. "Mom, I-- I brought him here for a reason."

"Is there another case requiring my expertise?"

"No, I..." Reid swallowed and considered his next move, as his mother looked at him like a cat watches a butterfly. He held his hand out to Langly, waited for Langly to take it, and saw the surprise bloom on his mother's face.

"You're holding someone's hand!" Diana smiled widely, her face brightening with pleasant surprise. "I'm so proud of you, Spencer! I knew you'd get there!"

Reid squeezed his eyes shut and cleared his throat awkwardly. "That is... definitely something new, yes, but not the point I'm trying to make." Langly thought he looked like he might be trying to melt directly into the floor.

"That's my son!" Diana exclaimed to Latoya, who looked wholly bemused at the situation. "He never touches anyone! Look at him! I'm so proud."

Langly thought Reid might die of embarrassment on the spot. If he squinted a little he thought he could see Reid's soul attempting to exit his body -- no, wait, that was the wireless repeater that served the back half of the floor.

"Mom, that's... Yes, it's wonderful and new, and I'm very proud of myself, too, but that's not why I'm here." Reid cleared his throat again, trying to put the correct sentence together. "Frank and I-- Mom, I want you to meet my boyfriend."

Diana's eyes sharpened as she turned them on Langly. "And what makes you think you're good enough for my son?"

Langly edged closer to Reid, a little behind him, even. "I don't. Ma'am. Professor-Ma'am-Lady-Spencer's Mom. I really don't, but he thinks I am, and that's enough for me."

"He's smart, kind, and charitable," Reid argued. "And I am perfectly capable of deciding who's good enough for me."

"And why is this the only one you've brought to see me, hm?" Diana's eyes were no less sharp as she returned them to her son. "Were those girls even real, or were you just trying not to worry your old mother? You didn't want to tell me the truth?"

"The ... truth about what?" Reid looked confused.

"They definitely exist, and phone records, where I could find them, do support the kind of relationship he says he had with them. So, I don't know why he didn't bring them to visit, but he sure as hell had girlfriends." Langly shrugged casually, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to say, and Reid glanced over his shoulder, gaping in horror. "What? You said you wanted something serious. I wanted to check and see what 'serious' looked like for you, so I'd know what to expect."

Reid gaped at Langly, tried a few sentences, and then settled on. "We're having a talk about this, later."

"Good, I'm glad they're real. Because I hoped you thought better of me, Spencer, than to imagine I would think less of you for choosing a man." Diana's eyebrow arced up, and it was a very different look on her than it was on Reid, Langly thought, but just as compelling. "That is not my concern. My concern is whether you've chosen the right person for you. Sometimes I worry. People have so rarely been kind to you."

"That was a long time ago. It's not like that any more." Reid's lips thinned, and he studied the arm of the chair his mother sat in. Microfiber, instead of leather. Seemed to be the trend in the family, lately, not that two datapoints were statistically significant, whatever conclusion he might be tempted to draw. "I'm in love. And for the first time, I feel like I know someone well enough to be comfortable bringing them home."

"So, you've been seeing him for a while, but you haven't mentioned him in your letters?" Diana blinked and looked at Latoya. "He hasn't, has he?"

Reid looked surprised -- that was a better awareness of her own state than she'd shown since he'd moved her to Boston.

Latoya shook her head. "Not a word."

"I wanted to be sure, this time. I keep... I don't know. I didn't want to get your hopes up. But, I think I've made a good decision." The last was a lie. Reid was sure he'd made a terrible decision, possibly a fatal one, but it was enjoyable, and he really wanted to believe it would last. He squeezed Langly's hand.

"Well, you know something? If you're wrong, you're wrong. I was wrong about your father, but we had some good times, and I ended up with you, so even that wasn't a bad thing. He was weak, but I liked him anyway, and that's what matters." Diana smiled.

Langly watched Reid's face pass through a few uncomfortable expressions before it fell blank, and he knew they were stepping out into 'saying strange things' territory.

"I keep saying we're smart enough to make this work." Langly smiled awkwardly.

"Smart is _not_ enough," Diana snapped, pointing a finger at Langly. "There cannot be secrets. There cannot be lies. And you cannot think you can fix everything yourself."

Reid looked increasingly uncomfortable, Langly noticed, because the worse it got, the more distant he looked.

"Anything I can fix, I will fix. Anything I can't fix, I'll pay someone competent to fix." Langly dodged the fact that a fundamental part of their relationship was tactical secrets and consensual lies.

"Spoken like a sensible man." Diana nodded. "But, you cannot let him keep secrets from you. That's how he gets hurt."

And that was not what Langly had expected at all. 'Don't keep secrets from him', but not 'don't let him keep secrets from you'. And the confusion must have shown on his face.

"I want to know you'll take good care of my son."

"Ma'am, keep in mind that I background checked his ex-girlfriends, just to see what I was up against. If he gets hurt, it's not going to be because _I_ didn't know something." Langly wondered if this conversation wouldn't have gone better with Chaz.

"Don't let him lie to you," Diana insisted, with an uncanny vehemence.

"I'll know," Langly assured her, sure that if something actually mattered, Chaz would deal with it or tell him. And other than that, it was Reid's business what he felt like mentioning. Of course, Langly already knew a lot of it -- anything that had ended up in somebody's digital storage. Anything more than that was wholly Reid's business. And maybe Chaz's.

"Good. Make sure you do." Diana picked up her pen and looked toward her notes again, pausing before she looked up again. "And now that we've established you're a sensible young man, Spencer has a birthday coming up."

"Mom..." Reid closed his eyes and took a breath so deep Langly could feel it.

"You never let anyone do anything for you! Well, no more."

Langly watched Diana like a man looks at an oncoming train.

"Take him somewhere nice, for his birthday. Promise me. Dinner, at least. Maybe a show in New York, once you've been together a few years."

"I'm definitely taking him out for dinner." Langly nodded. "Maybe breakfast, too."

" _Frank!_ " Reid looked utterly horrified.

"Well, then I hope you own a bed, if you have those sorts of intentions. Last I checked, Spencer did not, and I doubt both of you will fit on that sofa in any configuration but sitting."

" _Mom!_ "

"I promise to make sure he sleeps in a bed, for his birthday. After dinner." Langly nodded solemnly, then tipped his head to the side, resting it on Reid's shoulder. "Do something nice for yourself. I'll get you a night in a hotel. A king size bed, all to yourself. Stretch out a little!"

Reid pushed Langly's head off his shoulder, but he did catch the part where Langly implied they _weren't_ sleeping together. "Hotels are disgusting. Have you seen what you can turn up with the right kind of lighting?"

"And yet, you sleep in the shitty motels the Bureau will pay for," Langly teased.

Reid mashed his hand over Langly's face. "Anyway, that's my boyfriend. And I have a birthday somewhere in the future, upon which I will be doing whatever _I_ want, because it is _my_ birthday."

Langly cackled and licked Reid's palm.

"Ew!" Reid gaped at his hand, disgusted, and then wiped it on Langly's shirt. "You just-- _Ew!_ "

"You started it, Spencer," Diana pointed out, and Latoya stood beside her, trying very hard not to laugh.

"I'm pretty sure you started this, mom. And I'm absolutely sure Frank just finished it." Reid wiped his hand on Langly's shoulder one more time for good measure.

Diana looked at them both. "I do want to be happy for you, Spencer. But, you're still standing, and Frank looks like he's been called into the dean's office. Come, sit down. Tell me how you met."

Reid glanced at Latoya, checking that this was a good idea, before he committed to it. She nodded, still just outside Diana's vision, and Reid made a note to ask about his mother's medications, before he left. He knew she'd been accepted for the trial, but he wasn't sure if that was the difference.

"Just waiting for you to offer." Reid pulled over the chairs from one of the chess tables.

Langly nodded, waiting until Reid sat to take the other chair. "Didn't want to be rude. I mean, we just kind of... showed up and dropped that on you. Might not have been the most polite thing to assume we were staying for lunch."

"Oh, Spencer, _would_ you stay for lunch?" Diana looked back to her son, who tried not to look too confused.

"We're... in town all day, if you can..." Reid cleared his throat, looking for a polite way to imply that he wasn't expecting to have that time, before something went wrong. "...stand us, that long."

"Oh, you know I always love to see you. You should be visiting more, now that I've moved up here! You know I did it to be closer to you. It's so far!"

There it was. Another point not quite right, but close. "Of course you did, and I'm so glad. That's how I got to come up this weekend. It's just a couple of hours, but we've been swamped."

Langly swallowed and looked away, not sure how much of this story Reid meant to tell.

"Always running around after murderers..." Diana shook her head. "But, you're avoiding the question, Spencer. How did the two of you meet?"

Langly knew he'd turned a colour other than stark white, and he crossed his arms and tried very hard not to look guilty.

"On a case," Reid replied, obviously trying not to think too much about that case. "We, ah... We met on a case."


	3. Chapter 3

"She's almost right, isn't she?" Langly asked, on the way out. "Like, everything's just a little to the left of where she thinks it is."

"Right now? Yeah. But, she's also better than she's been in a very long time. Usually, she can keep it together for a few hours, if we're lucky." Reid waited until they were outside, to say anything else. "She's on an experimental treatment. This is the first human test, in this country, but I've seen the work done in other places, and I'm ... I'm hoping it keeps helping. Nothing works for long enough, on one front, and nothing works well enough on the other, and then there's the question of which combinations are even safe..."

He sighed, and Langly held out an arm. For a moment, it looked like Reid might just keep walking, but he stopped and turned, resting his forehead on Langly's shoulder, Langly's arms close around him.

"It's statistically likely that's going to be _me_ , one day."

"But, not inevitable, right?"

"Nothing's inevitable, and that's what makes it so much worse. There's always something that could have been different."

"You're going to lose your fucking mind, and I say this as if you haven't already, and Chaz says I'm gonna die before sixty because of the anomaly -- not that I think he's right. So, we plan for the worst, hope for the best, and meet it somewhere in the middle."

"I just hate not having any control."

"Lies. You totally have control over some of it, and you're doing a pretty good job with what you've got." Langly cleared his throat and shifted his weight, and Reid raised his head.

"What did you do?"

"You... have more than you did, this morning. Or, your mother does. Maybe you, too, depending on how things go."

"La--" Reid squeezed his eyes shut, took a breath, and tried again, stepping back. " _Frank_ , what did you do?"

"I set up a trust -- well, _Whiskey_ set up a trust -- to help pay for your mother's care. Also recurrent anonymous donations to the hospital, in support of any research you think will help." Langly held his hands up and stepped back. "You love her. You love me. I just wanted to help. It's _pocket change_ , for us. We're already pouring money into larger scale problem solving with a good thirty or forty faces on it, so it can't be traced back. If I can take a fraction of that and solve something for you, with it..."

Reid was torn. On the one hand, Langly had silently done exactly what his mother had asked -- fixed something he _could_. On the other hand, Reid was entirely offended at the idea that there even was a problem to fix. That somehow, he wasn't doing enough. "How much?"

"About what you make in a year. I'll make it back playing online poker against Junior Cheez Wiz, in the morning." Langly held out a hand and Reid didn't take it.

"Why? Why couldn't you believe this was something I could handle without that, like I've been doing for the last nineteen years?"

"Could you? Yes. Obviously you can. You've been doing it for nineteen years, without help. I know that. I read that. I can reach out and touch the files that told me that. Should you keep doing it without help? Why?" Langly shook his head. "And besides that, what if, god forbid, something _happens_ to you? You don't have to worry about that. Whatever happens, she'll be taken care of. And if someday you need it, it's there for you, too. I will handle the investments that fund it, myself. And in a few weeks, it's not going to matter if something happens to _me_ , either. You're the one worried about ending up in there. I don't know how to do anything else. Let me just make sure you _do_ end up in there, if you need it, and not in some goddamn state hospital, and I _know_ you know the difference."

Reid sucked in a sharp breath and blinked. "Thank you. But, and I don't have a way to say this that isn't going to sound like an accusation, and it's _not_ an accusation, I don't want this to become something that can be used against me."

"Oh." Langly's face softened, as he offered Reid his arm again, and his time Reid stepped back into it, accepting the weight across his shoulders, as they walked down to the street. "It can't be. It can't be connected to either of us, so nobody's going to start investigating you over it, and you're not going to owe taxes for it. I mean, it's not connected other than the part where it's obviously someone who knows your family, because it's paying for your mother. And once that starts, it doesn't stop until she dies or the trust runs out of money, which it's not going to, because my kung fu is the best. Listen, pick somewhere for dinner, and I'll bore you to tears with trust law until we get back on the plane. I promise, the absolutely worst anyone could do -- including myself or Hafidha -- is delete all record of the trust, and that puts you in a position no worse than the one you started in. Listen, you said it to me, and I'll say it back. It's a gift, not an obligation."

"I still feel like a prostitute when you do things like this."

"As if I think you're boning me for any reason besides the sheer pleasure of bouncing on my moderately-sized dick?"

Reid squeezed his eyes shut and laughed, colour splashing across his cheeks.

* * *

The restaurant was expensive -- the kind of expensive, Langly said, where you'd expect to find someone snorting coke in the bathroom. And once he said it, Reid couldn't get the image out of his head. In the end, it had been Langly who picked the restaurant, because the first three places Reid wanted to go were crowded, closed, and crowded, and Langly wasn't going to make it if he had to wait two hours to even be seated. They'd walked past the place and Langly had looked up and said, "Let's do something dumb."

The host had tried to stop them at the door -- certainly Reid was dressed... almost well enough, but Langly didn't stand a chance. Not until he pulled out a corporate card with the name of a company Reid didn't recognise, but the host clearly did. A card clearly marked as a _debit_ card, featuring a photograph that might pass as Langly in the right light.

"I don't think you understand. _I'm paying_ ," Langly snapped, holding up the card. "Tip yourself five hundred if you can put us in the back, somewhere. I'm not here to be seen, I'm here to have dinner. I'm here to have dinner somewhere I'm not going to wait three hours for a table and then put up with people taking selfies with me in the background."

Reid could smell the long-burn on Langly, that sick-sweet that came from the constant use of his powers without enough food. "Please," he said, putting an arm around Langly's waist and gesturing at him with the other hand. "We've had a very long day. Obviously. Mr Arroway would appreciate a pleasant, private supper, before we attend to our next objective. The clock doesn't stop for a suit at the cleaner's."

Reid watched the man reconsider what he was seeing -- a beleaguered CTO and his harried assistant, rather than a young clerk and an agent of destruction. He watched their roles reverse, in the host's eyes, as the man plucked the card from Langly's fingers and invited 'Mr Arroway' to follow him.

The menu had no prices, Reid noticed. The kind of thing that said if one worried about prices, one shouldn't be eating there, and not for the first time, he remembered just how much Langly actually ate, these days. This was a vulgar display of wealth, and Reid knew it. It was a reminder that Langly wasn't joking about the amount of money he could turn into action, and _had been_ turning into action. And that became the subject of conversation, while they waited for the first course to arrive, Langly guzzling the sweetest drink on the menu in record quantity.

Langly explained, loosely, what it was they actually did with the money they'd been cut loose with. First he'd pulled some stock stunts of questionable legality, which was all he'd say about that part, and then he'd started targeting financially malicious corporations -- draining their profits, dropping their stock prices. Surprisingly easy, with his skills, both in acquiring and distributing information. He'd invested a lot of their money in businesses that paid fairly and treated employees well, and Byers had then established several charities as their funds continued to increase. Between the charities and the shell corporations, they'd started buying up real estate that would otherwise have gone to gentrification projects, and turned those locations into community service providers, instead -- food banks, clinics, shelters, childcare. Because it wasn't enough just to check government excess, they'd decided. They had to have the leverage to shame the government into providing basic services to people who needed them -- which was really _everyone_ , when you came down to it. And the leverage would be in the effect of their actions. People who weren't afraid of losing everything were more likely to speak out and demand to be treated like humans, they figured, and that was the first step to putting the government back where it belonged -- in the hands of the people.

Which was, Langly pointed out, as dinner hit the table, sort of the point of this whole thing, anyway. Making the powers that tried to pretend they weren't until they bit you in the ass accountable to the people, like they were supposed to be, in the first place.

"You see yourself like Robin Hood," Reid suggested.

"Only if Robin Hood was an extremely well-funded privateer."

"Does it count as privateering if your letter of marque is a death certificate?"

"I'd like to think certain parties I suspect had a hand in this knew exactly what they were doing." Langly smiled thinly and added another plate to the pile of empties. Typical rich people shit, he thought -- charge twenty times as much for a quarter as much food.

Somewhere between the second and third course, when Langly had started to slow down a bit, Reid made a decision. Langly had expressed an interest in semi-public places, and this wasn't the city they lived in, so it was a _little_ less of a bad idea... "I'm considering something even stupider than when we walked in. You're tired of hotel wallpaper, but what about bathroom tile?"

Langly choked. "Are you--? You're not serious. What are you drinking? You can't be serious."

"Is that a no?" Reid picked up the glass of wine he'd been nursing, through the whole meal, and finished it.

"That's an 'oh my god, I'm so glad we're the last table before the bathrooms'." Langly took in the room. No one was looking their way, but no one would be. They were seated in the corner likely reserved for people attempting to dine at the same time as the exes they didn't want to see, with the noise of the kitchen behind the ferns on one side and the hall to the bathrooms on another.

Reid raised his eyebrows, snatched the cup of olive oil that had been meant for his salad, and then slipped out of his seat and down the hall, at an angle invisible from the rest of the floor. Langly checked the security cameras again, and then followed.

"Three minutes or less," Langly warned, locking the door. "And I was right. This is such a coke bathroom."

"Can you stay quiet?" Reid asked, pulling Langly toward the sink, where he'd set the cup.

"Please. I'm the best." Langly pushed up his sleeves and unbuttoned his jeans, shoving them down with his hands in his pockets, from one of which he produced a condom. "Don't leave home without one, since things got exciting between us."

Reid kissed the side of Langly's neck, catching his eye in the mirror. "You _are_ the best."

"Time," Langly hissed, as Reid rolled the condom on. "Lots of oil, fast, hard, now. God, I want you, and we do not have the _time_."

As Reid pushed in, Langly arched against him, mouth locked open and soundless but for the panting. "You all--"

"Hurry _up_ ," Langly demanded, voice barely more than a breath, as he leaned forward and braced himself against the sink. "The point is not to get caught!"

So, Reid did, watching Langly's face in the mirror as he picked up the pace, trying to convince himself to think of his own pleasure first, even as he curled slick fingers around Langly's erection. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Langly would be-- And that was a little quicker than he'd expected, the throb against his fingers, the angle of Langly's hips, the reflection of Langly's open-mouthed ecstasy in the mirror.

That last hit harder than Reid expected. He'd seen Langly's face like this a couple dozen times, and though he never failed to appreciate it, this was different, somehow, almost voyeuristic. He could see so much more, like this, in a mirror that stretched from over their heads to just below their hips, so much more than just Langly's face -- the angle of his body, the way his tied hair hung over his shoulder, the tightness of the muscles in his forearms and his neck that mirrored the way muscles Reid couldn't see had clenched.

"I love you," Reid breathed against Langly's neck, unwilling to meet his own eyes in the mirror as he chased his own release. The third time he'd said it to Langly, and the second time he'd been sure he meant it, and it was in this coke bathroom in Boston, because he needed the reminder of how he'd talked himself into this. But, he wasn't actually touching any of the surfaces any more than he would have using the room for its intended purpose. Possibly even less so, because, really, the only thing he was touching was Langly, who watched him in the mirror.

And then Langly's eyes slid closed, and Reid could feel his hips lift as his feet and legs flexed. This was filthy, illegal, and completely stupid, and just like the calculations to put a potato through the skylight of a certain university's technologies library from the roof of the astronomy building, Reid loved every second of it. And he loved Langly, which he didn't say again, as he lost himself to the electric pleasure ringing through his bones.

They'd both forgotten Reid had trouble standing up, after, and after a day of mostly walking, it hit even faster. He felt his head spin and his knees buckle, Langly's hands grabbing for the top of his pants, to at least slow the fall.

"Lean forward!" Langly hissed, pulling up, and Reid did, knocking them both bent as he clutched at the sink.

"Sorry."

"Okay, this was dumb, and we both knew better, but here's what we're going to do. You're going to hold onto me and move when I move, and I'm going to back into that stall, and you're going to sit down. Then I'm going to go back to the table, before somebody decides we've left, and you're going to pull yourself together."

Reid nodded against Langly's back, knowing they didn't have the time for him to apologise further. Three minutes or less, Langly had said, and he was pretty sure they'd been five, already. He could do this. He'd been dizzier than this and held himself together. But, Langly was right. He should take a minute, and that was a minute they didn't both have. He let Langly help him, because it was faster than arguing. 

"I'll be right there," he promised, before Langly winked and vanished, still buttoning his jeans.

By the time Reid got back to the table, Langly had yet another drink in his hand as he chatted animatedly with the waitress about the flaws in the restaurant's security system.

"Don't mind him," Reid said, sliding into his seat. "He gets like this when he skips lunch."

The waitress laughed. "No, it's just I know he's right. There _are_ dead zones, and we keep them for like... actors who don't want anyone to know they were here. You're sitting in one. It's why the service sucks. We can't see when you're done with a course, so we don't just appear like we're psychic."

Reid blinked and looked at Langly. "Is that a thing?"

Langly shrugged. "It's a high-end restaurant, and there's cameras in places that don't make security sense, but do make sense if you're going to either keep an eye on the tables for that or sell photos to the tabloids."

"I'm still surprised you could see them!" the waitress exclaims, and Reid knows Langly didn't see the cameras, he could just see the video being transmitted and extrapolate from there.

"He's got a lot of hidden talents. That's why _he's_ the executive."

Langly raised his eyebrows at Reid, a reminder that he wasn't the only talented one at the table.

"But, did you gentlemen want some dessert this evening?"

And it took all of Langly's self control not to say he'd just had his dessert, even if he hadn't eaten it.


	4. Chapter 4

By three in the morning, they'd finally gotten home, where home was defined as Langly's. Frohike was still up, sorting through the latest batch of scans for his archive, and he came down to unbolt the basement door.

"Just so you know? Penelope's taken your spot on the sofa," Frohike said, as he let them in.

"How's Byers?" Langly asked, exhausted, but still concerned.

"He's exactly where he'd be if you were on that sofa."

"God, Byers, just take her to bed," Langly groaned, rubbing his face as he stumbled toward the stairs. Twenty-four hours awake wasn't usually a big deal, but he hadn't usually done it on half the recommended food, in another city, under high-stress circumstances, and then gotten laid before having to pass through an airport again. Or... at least that hadn't been the case in a whole lot of years, and right now, he was out of practise and it was kicking his ass.

Reid took a few moments longer to absorb the meaning. "We have to walk right past them, don't we?"

"They're asleep," Frohike promised. "And I like her. She reminds me of when you were younger, Langly, but less of a dick."

"That's a shame." Langly yawned as he headed up the stairs. "I think Byers needs more dick in his life."

"Just buy him a nice dildo. It's less dangerous to all of our health," Frohike muttered, bringing up the rear. "Ceiling's in, so you might as well see how that holds up. If you wake Byers, you'll know it wasn't enough."

Reid looked down, realising Frohike was in a perfect place in the spiral to see his face. "You'd think I might blush at that, but after today, you'd be wrong."

"I don't want to know!" Frohike held up a hand. "Don't tell me!"

"I sat through lunch with his mother," Langly muttered, from the top of the stairs, punching in the code for the door. "You think _you're_ bad? You have nothing on this woman. I've _been_ naked and felt less naked."

As expected, Frohike had left the manual lock disengaged, when he'd gone down, and the door slid open easily, almost silently. As they stepped out of the stairs, Garcia looked back, over the arm of the couch, waving with the hand that didn't hold her tablet, as Reid stepped out.

And Reid just looked awkward, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be. Not guilty, but definitely uncomfortable and considering his options. He held up his hand and nodded, then pointed at his ear, raised his eyebrows, and gestured at the couch, where he expected Byers still lay.

Garcia pointed down and nodded, shooing Reid past.

Frohike peeled off from the group, heading back up to his desk, after he'd re-engaged the manual lock. He had work to do. He could give Langly a hard time in the morning.

As Langly passed the couch, he checked on Byers, who was still breathing if bent somewhat awkwardly around Garcia's body, feet jutting over the far arm of the sofa. "You know, he has a bed," he whispered to Garcia, and she pointed to the bottle on the table, next to the empty half-gallon of triple chocolate swirl. Langly rolled his eyes and shook his head, putting an arm around Reid. "You need anything, hassle Frohike, first. I've been up since yesterday plus a few hours, and I'm going to go die, now."

Garcia tipped her head back a little further and winked at Reid, who cleared his throat and pretended not to see.

Reid nearly stepped out of his skin, when Langly grabbed his ass and squeezed, before they were quite through the door to the back hall. Behind him, he could hear Garcia snort, quietly.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, in the vault between doors, twisting away from Langly.

"She thinks I'm screwing around on you with Villette," Langly replied, jamming his hands into his pockets. "I'm just assisting the impression that everything is fine, between us, and nobody needs to look too hard at Special Agent Creepy Headgames."

"Screwing around on me _with Villette_?" Reid blinked, horror unfolding across his face. "I'll say something to her. Obviously, I will not _explain_ , but I will say... something."

"Hafs is already pretty vehement it wasn't me she heard in his room, that night. And we both know why she's not going to say it was you."

"Because she's one of us, and she knows better," Reid muttered, stepping back so Langly could get the other door. "You know, this is a lot easier when I'm not trying to hide someone I _work with_."

"It's fine. We'll be fine. There are a total of four people who know, and three of them are us." Langly took Reid's hand and stepped out the door, backward.

"That's one too many," Reid argued, letting himself be led.

"That's also your fault," Langly pointed out. "You knew she was there."

"I'm aware that I could blame this on Chaz, but I'm not even going to try."

"You know, the ceiling's in. We're definitely soundproof, _here_." Langly grinned wickedly, opening his own door and feeling the change in the floor, as he stepped in.

Reid blinked, looking away from Langly to take in the room -- almost all of it a deep indigo, punctuated by the grey and taupe of industrial furniture, the occasional tiny coloured light marking a cluster of wires on the ceiling. "I can hear it. It sounds different in here."

"Flat, right?" Langly nodded, crossing the room to the bed. "C'mere, you'll like this part."

Reid watched, curious, as Langly turned a dial next to the bed, slowly raising a blue glow around the frame and more lights embedded in the floor, tracing the path from the bed to the bathroom door. It was just enough light, Reid realised, to read by. A different colour than his own lights, but a similar luminosity. "You did this for me, didn't you?"

"Well, you love me, so you're probably sticking around a while." Langly shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed to untie his shoes. "It's probably in my best interest to make that comfortable." He didn't mention that the lights had been part of the original revamp plans, long before that word had entered either of their minds. "Floor's heated, too."

Reid pulled the door shut, cutting off the light from the hall, making the bed the only illumination in the room. It was like something out of a dream -- blue on blue, and Langly sitting in that dim glow, looking across the room at him, nervously. He crossed the room without a word, bending to kiss Langly. "We're not perfect, but we're trying. I've heard it said that's what matters."

"I think there's only one way you'd be more perfect," Langly breathed, looking up at Reid.

"If I'd stop freaking out every time you spend money?" Reid scoffed, looking away.

"If you were _naked_."

"You have been awake twenty... six? twenty-eight hours? You can't possibly be serious."

"Have you met me?" Langly reached under the bedside table and came up with a can of Jolt, opening it one-handed. "But, no. I'm going to drink this so I don't die in my sleep, and then I'm going to go to sleep. Hopefully with my entirely perfect and completely naked boyfriend to keep me warm."

"And you'll leave the lights on?" Reid asked, stealing another kiss before he stood up and started working on divesting himself of at least some of what he wore.

"The dial's on your side of the bed. Set it to whatever you want; I can sleep through almost anything." Langly set the half-empty can on the nightstand, rocked back, and shoved his jeans off as he sat up, leaving him in just a t-shirt and oil-stained boxers.

Reid folded his clothes, leaving them on the table at the end of the bed, careful not to knock over the tray of loose screws. He realised he hadn't brought any clothes with him, since he'd meant to only be gone the day. No one would care. He'd either wash them in the morning or just wear them home. He had, he reminded himself, gone far longer without clean underwear.

His briefs, though, he threw at Langly's head. "I am not perfect, and don't you dare start thinking of me that way."

By the time Langly had tossed them into the pile of Reid's clothing, Reid was halfway into his lap, and Langly leaned back onto one hand, to keep his balance. "Close enough for me. I've seen an awful lot of you, and the things I don't like aren't _you_."

Reid could guess what Langly was very tactfully not saying, and he was grateful to dodge that reminder. "Speaking of which," he said, leaning forward and poking Langly in the chest, "did you actually look up my ex girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend _s_. Yes, her, too." Langly shrugged. "You want the truth, or do you want to hang on to what I told your mother?"

Reid's lips thinned and he closed his eyes. "I'm feeling wild, tonight. Let's go with the truth," he said, knowing he might regret that decision.

"It was when I did the rest of your background, and it was _your_ phone records, first. Bureau keeps track of its own, and you've had that number since you moved in. I filtered out all the Bureau numbers, which didn't leave much. Then I filtered out your mother." Langly smiled up, proudly. "Then, there was almost nothing. Didn't find the one in there, and you knew I didn't, which is why you said 'girlfriend'. You thought I'd only spot the actress. But, I tripped over that case, so I went digging. Payphones were a nice touch. Very much something I'd have done. Also, a bartender who only called you a handful of times? You didn't go back, did you?"

"No." Reid found himself strangely relieved. Just a background check, really, and he'd already known Langly had done that. He just hadn't put the pieces together in the right order. "And I don't really want to talk about any of them. But, why did you lie to my mother?"

"Because it should've been funny. It was supposed to be a joke, and it didn't land, and then I didn't know how to take it back, after everything you'd said about talking to her." Langly shrugged the shoulder that wasn't supporting him and almost reached for Reid, but stopped. "I took a chance saying anything, but I did know you'd had at least two fairly significant relationships that showed up, and I just wanted to stop that tangent before she could finish going off on it. And then I didn't have any way to cover my ass, so I went with the one I was hoping would get a laugh, so we could change the subject."

"That was stupid and dangerous and I really can't approve of the decision, but thank you." Reid leaned down for a kiss. "I think she likes you, which is all I could have hoped for."

"I told you I was good at talking to people who have their reality on sideways. It's just I'm usually talking to conspiracy nuts in the wild."

"You know, some people would say you _are_ a wild conspiracy nut..." Reid pointed out, with a barely suppressed smile.

"Some people need to get out more. We're the shallow end of the pool. Sometimes we're wrong, but we're not usually utterly bugfuck, and I say that having both seen an actual alien spacecraft and been drunk enough to photograph a hot waitress, thinking she was a yeti. You kind of get an eye for the good stuff, after a while, and you can spot a crank at twenty paces."

Reid looked down between them and then back up at Langly's face. "There's a joke about cranks in here, and I'm just not going to make it, mostly because I'm too tired to get the words in the right order."

"And yet you put together that sentence just fine."

"That sentence didn't require me to be paying attention and funny at the same time."

Langly sprawled back, moving his arm out of the way. "You should move, so we can get under the blankets. And then you should put your hands all over me."

"I thought you were going to sleep." Reid moved to the side, and tugged down the other side of the blanket.

"Nobody said I couldn't sleep with you groping me!" Langly dragged himself across the bed and into the warm fluffiness, pulling the blanket up to his nose, with a relieved groan. "I love this bed. I've had this bed for fifteen years and I love this bed. Stick around long enough and one day I might say it about you."

"I've had it for fifteen years, and I love this boyfriend?" Reid teased, curling up against Langly's side. "I mean, it seems statistically likely. You've said about as much about Byers."

"I adore Byers, but he really needs to get laid. By someone who's not crazy. Or me. By someone who isn't crazy, drunk, or me." Langly rested his chin on Reid's head, his hand on Reid's shoulder.

"Villette," Reid muttered against Langly's chest, half-asleep, and suddenly neither of them could stop laughing.


End file.
